


Welcome to StrexCorp

by MetasActReon



Series: The Tragedy of Desert Bluffs [2]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Kevin has Visions, Kevin has a Third Eye, Kevin has tentacles, Kevin is Inhuman, Magical Tattoos, Making of Strex Kevin, Pre-Strex Kevin, Strex Take Over, Strexcorp is Evil, Tentacle Tattoos, Tentacles, torture fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-29 04:43:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13919625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MetasActReon/pseuds/MetasActReon
Summary: The fall of Kevin.OrStrexCorp employs monsters.





	Welcome to StrexCorp

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of a prologue/first look at a big piece I am working on... Some warnings, this is not going to be pretty. This will not be fluffy and soft (that's sorta for the next part in this series...) You have been warned. Tags will be updated as new chapters are added. This chapter is a walk in the park compared to what is coming.

     He looked around the studio, his studio, the place he could be himself, and smiled at the comforting surroundings.

     He looked around town. Those who had not been taken over or killed by Strex were few and hiding. Just like himself, they would soon fall. He shuddered, and whispered, fighting back tears, “Goodbye, fair listeners. Goodbye.” He shut down the microphone for what would be his last time. Surely they wouldn't let him live. He had been the biggest thorn in their side since the beginning. He closed all three eyes to calm the flow of images.

     It was time.

     He made his way to the entrance. He stopped for a moment to give the station’s pet a small pat. No matter what happens, he hoped Nellie the eel would be taken care of. Nellie lifted his head from the tank and the radio host gave him a customary kiss on the temple.

     He moved on from the pet, on to the entrance to the station. Two last interns huddled in fear as they gazed out the window at the encroaching company workers.

     “What are you going to do?” the girl asked the radio host, trembling.

     “The last thing that I can,” he sighed, his beautiful voice failing to calm the girl, just as it failed to calm the approaching storm.

 _“You win,”_ a voice once told him. _There is no winning this._

     He stepped outside, folded his arms and glared at the smiling black eyed people. People he knew. People he had watched grow up. People he had watched be tortured and manipulated. People who had been mutilated to appear like any other normal human being. This place wasn't for normal humans. And he would have to fall before it would be.

     His tattoos, dark and golden, wriggled on his skin before lifting. Ten large tentacles then tore holes into the back of his clothes. He would need as much free movement as was possible. Two smaller tentacles rested around his neck and twisted themselves together into an elegant protective necklace, looking like an odd tie over his bowtie.

     Radio hosts do tend have a bit of a flare for dramatics, after all.

     His tentacles stretched out, trying to swell up to make himself even more massive, more terrifying. Many of the people hesitated. He fought the urge to smile, not willing to give their god any satisfaction; but instead showed his teeth in a monstrous snarl.

     Humans smile to show kindness and joy, and they smile by baring their teeth. Animals bare their teeth to show aggression. If given an option of a, b, or c; StrexCorp employees seem to bare their teeth for all of the above.

     The Voice’s town was falling. He bared his teeth, not out of joy or kindness. His teeth had become sharper out of animalistic fury. His eyes shown red with hate. A sound of static emanated from him, low and threatening, easily carrying over the street.

     Suddenly the people ran forward, a wave of otherworldly smiling faces, faces he knew. His tentacles flexed, throwing people back and snapping necks and arms and legs.

_Don't think about their names._

_Don't think about that one's struggles._

_Don't think about how that one saw your tentacles and still treated you fine._

_Don't-_

**_Earnest._ **

_Late fights. Date nights. Watching the scrub lands in bloom._

     A tentacle reached around Earnest and threw him back. The host shook his head and continued. Someone threw a knife at his throat and his necklace of tentacles caught it, only getting cut a little. One pulled back and threw it back into the crowd, trying to slow at least one more smiling drone. The door opened behind him, and the two interns came out with makeshift weapons. With yells, they helped their betentacled boss, who had never felt prouder.

     Then the knife appeared in Julie’s chest.

     “No, get back inside!” the host gasped, static ceasing, forgetting that this was a fight that would not be won.

     “No sir,” Devon said tersly, his tail twitching nervously. He knew what he was here to do.

     A flash of light.

     Cool tentacled back against searing metal door.

     Blinking eyes, trying to see what was in front of them.

     An image, a bird's eye view of what was happening.

     Three people against the radio station, one dying from a knife wound, another bleeding from the head where he had hit the wall, unconscious; and a radio host in a mess of tentacles being seized and drug away.

     He tried to fight them off, but it was difficult, trying to go based on feelings and a perspective in the wrong direction. Each successful hit he made was quickly replaced by someone new. Like ants, if one fell another took its place. The horde was taking him away from his station. The Voice was being taken over.

     He took a deep breath, coiled all his tentacles around him, and swirled, knocking his captors back. He blinked, his normal vision returning. He was surrounded on all sides. Blunt force hits to his tentacles, though they could take those.

**_PAIN!_ **

     What once were ten now were nine and a half. His eyes were no longer red, but a quivering orange. Surrounded by his fellow townsfolk, his dark golden tentacles taking on damage, the host was losing...

     One last flash, and he was down.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story that will be horrible, but *shrugs* I think we need more longer stories of how Kevin became the Strex Drone we met in the beginning. I already have 30 pages of this story written up, but it is a pretty filled out outline that I am building on in many sections. I also have at least 4 more stories planned. So, yay! This and the next story will probably be the darkest, most violent and gore filled crap I ever write. So, if you are eager to read more, support me with kudos and comments! This... This is nothing compared to what I have in store.


End file.
